Without Sweetness
by Isolde136
Summary: By her 16th birthday, Bellatrix Black has almost entirely become what she will be. Almost.


_For Hogwarts Online sixteen candles Prompt of the Day..._

_Insert a witty synonym for "I don't own this, it's the property of JK Rowling."_

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It is Bellatrix Black's 16th birthday, and if her mother is driving her not literally mad, then she is close to it.

"You are a true lady today…" she mimics, speaking to her reflection in the mirror, "You are a beautiful woman, and we can now go about finding a pure-blood man from a respectable family to be your husband."

She gives an unladylike curse and spits on the polished glass, watching her reflection distort in the trail of saliva. She has told the house-elves time and time again not to touch her room, yet they will ultimately obey her mother's authority. She curses at the green dress she is wearing, with its low-cut bodice and flowing skirt- Narcissa had been jealous of the emerald-green colour and the diamonds on bottom of the heavy skirt- and wonders how her mother can be so shallow. She is ignorant blind, even, to the great things that are happening around her. It will not be important to find a "suitable pure-blood' to marry when there are only pure-bloods. What are balls, what are parties, compared to a cleansing of blood the likes of which the world has never seen before? The large emerald on her necklace is only a small token of the riches she will receive someday. She looks back at her reflection, a pale face and black hair that blends in to the darkness of the room. Beauty is an asset. It is power.

She hears a knock on her door. If it is her mother, wondering why she is not dressed for her second ball already, she'll break something. Her wand is on the desk next to her, and her hand is poised for action. Yet…

"Yes, honourable and dearest mother, you may come in." She says in her most posh, most sarcastic voice. She hears a giggle on the other side.

"Bella, it's me." Andromeda's voice whispers. Oh. Well, that's better at least. Andromeda has probably come to gape at her jewels again. She doesn't mind her sisters, yes, they are naïve, but she was once. She sometimes misses it.

Andromeda walks in, wrinkling her nose. "I don't understand why you always keep your room so dark, Bella." Bella does not respond.

"I made a cake for you." Andromeda goes on. "Mother's never made any of us us a cake; I decided that since it's your 16th birthday you deserved something besides parties, because I know you hate people." She smiles.

It's not even a pretty cake. Bella can see in the light of its candles and the faint rays of sun that penetrate her thick curtains that it is misshapen and her sister didn't even bother to put on icing. It isn't anything like the entrees at the balls that are perfectly put together and yet perfectly disgusting- an apt metaphor for the people there as well. She wonders how they made it without the house-elves noticing and how they smuggled the sixteen candles that are its only decoration out of the kitchen. The candles illuminate Andromeda's face- so like Bella's own, but a little plainer and less harsh. Just like her sister herself. Bella never would have thought to bake a cake for either of her sisters, but she appreciates Andromeda's gesture.

"Thank you." She rises and watches the candles and her sister's glowing face for a moment. "This is when I should blow them out?"

"Make a wish, like muggles do." Says Andromeda, laughing. Bella knows that she should slap her sister, or at least feel angry about such a careless suggestion. Purebloods do not speak of such things. But a laugh escapes her lips before she can bite it back.

"Alright, I will." She says, and with a puff of breath blows out the flames of all sixteen candles, leaving the room in semi-darkness.

"What did you wish for?" Andromeda asks, innocent as ever. She should stay that way, thinks Bella, as long as she can. So Bellatrix does not answer her sister, but rather goes back to her desk and gets out her wand. She makes an incision, cutting a piece out of her last remnant of childhood.

"This is good!" She tells her sister as she bites into the dry, overcooked mess that Andromeda forgot to put sugar in. She doesn't gain anything from the lie except for her sister's smile. This is the last day that that will be enough.

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**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**You'll always be loved**

**If you review.**

**:)**


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